


No Man Needs Nothing

by russian_blue



Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Genre: Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/pseuds/russian_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all think he's looking for something in the desert. Glory, or victory, or conquest, or the adoration of men; escape, perhaps, or simply himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Man Needs Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rachel2205](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel2205/gifts).



They all think he's looking for something in the desert. Glory, or victory, or conquest, or the adoration of men; escape, perhaps, or simply himself.

He finds all of these things and more, and loses them, and sometimes gets them back. But none of those are why he loves -- no, why he _needs_ the desert.

He needs its nothingness. Its empty expanses, the searing heat of the sun, the blowing desolation of the sand. Not because he is a Bedouin, or a god, or English . . . but because he is Lawrence.

The desert is the only place where he can lose everything. England, and ambition, and himself. When he stares out into the wastes of Arabia, his quick mind falls silent; the incessant turning of the gears in his mind slows at last to a halt. He thought for a while that it was peace he sought, but peace is a thing of too much substance. He wants nothing. He needs it. He needs a void, a little span of time in which he can cease to be Lawrence.

Even here, he can only lose himself in brief snatches. There are others about, and obligations. There is glory and victory and conquest and the adoration of men -- and he is human enough to want these things.

But when he stands at the edge of camp and stares out into the sand, burned white-gold by the sun or cold silver by the moon . . . then, for a little time, there is nothing. And he is content.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what I think of my own characterization here. :-P I just know that when I read your prompt and thought about the desert, this is what fell out of my head. I can imagine Lawrence this way, I suppose: he's such a brilliant man that he might crave anything that can turn his brain off for a time. I hope it pings something in your desert-loving heart, at least. I love many kinds of landscape, so it was fun to write a love letter to one so harsh and unforgiving.


End file.
